Blood for Noxus
by Styre
Summary: "When you're born in the dirt only way to grow is up" Riven saw with her own eyes the struggle of poor people and showed will to become strong in order to live a proper Noxian life - although it costed her to lose the feeling of love and see it only as a sign of weakness of heart. She had to learn how to be strong. Can she keep her resolve and not be distracted?
1. Chapter 1

The brew-filled mugs clung against the wooden tables of the tavern located in the lower part of Noxus. The cold, winter air rushed all the citizens towards any building they could hide from harsh weather. The later the hour, the more people would gather to drink and warm up.

This tavern was not special, one could say it was the place free of higher rank people. The citizens of the lower part of Noxus preferred to not meddle with neither soldiers nor Generals, as their social status was drawing a clear line in their interactions. Noxus supported strength in any form, any idle human was looked down upon, any drunkard was not worth being called Noxian. This certain tavern contained a big group of people seemingly not worthy.

No sign of clean air found its place inside this God-forgotten area, polluted by the dirt of the smog. In the back of the scrapped bar, a man held to a cello slowly drawing out a tune, trying to fit in with the sounds of creaking tables and heavy thuds of steel decorated tankards, yet not quite fitting the atmosphere with the slow, calming sound his instrument drew.

Ash dropped down the cigars filled the crannies of the old wooden floors, the wet piles slipping from mud-colored boots only polished the spots, but the owner paid no mind to the filth surrounding the tavern. After all, customers were coming and going, but ever returning for another fill of underground delicacy brew he served.

The wary eyes of the men did follow every step of newcomers, no one greeting, not a single soul seemed to mind the disturbances outside their own tables. It was a simple illusion the customers created to not cause any trouble for themselves unless the wanderer had no business in settling down by one of the tables or the bar to knock down a beer or two. It had its own perks, no fight had broken down in months. All gathered in to converse about the so-called elite from the upper area of the Noxian Empire, yet rather than peacefully talking the differences, they preferred to spit down at any mention of them.

Hate towards the elite was truly uniting topic in this God-forgotten place, yet not only the hostile attitude was strengthening the bonds between customers. Sometimes someone would cheer, as a fellow comrade would down too many fills and fell face-first on the table unconscious. The common activity would involve bets to be risen at the sight, gambling if the poor drunkard broke his nose and, favoring his misfortune, earn a coin or two.

The hits on creaking tables put down a certain rhythm in which all would move, even first-timers would have to force themselves not to follow-up on the intense mashes with their feet as they marched onwards to the bar for their fill.

One of the men sat on the bench with back to his comrades, observing the movement of never motionless tavern, smirk rising up his unkempt mustache and beard, barely showing off his mouth until it would open to get another chug of brew, only to spill drops down the thick hair without a sign of care to wipe down the liquid.

The door screeched open as a pair of steel-toe boots marched inside, just a simple sound could hint the status of the newcomer. It surely was a soldier, but no one seemed to notice the more expensive footwear. The face hidden under long hood of the worn out coat did not pick anyone interest as the style of it fit the unprosperous commoners. However, the style of walking did, the fellow Noxian did not give in to the rhythm of brew filled tankards, the eyes of the soldier did not mind the drunkards.

Slow motion the soldier moved with indicated the unneeded attempt to hide the steel thuds against the floor as if trying to hide the sound with the sloppy movement of feet barely leaving the ground. Though the movement itself was weird, the sound did not uncover the identity of the intruder. No one seemed to pay attention to the visibly stiff stranger.

Unlike the others, the bearded man did notice the color of short hair barely standing out from beneath the cloth, and his smirk only grew into a burst of laughter. He did not move, he only roared with his deep bass voice, urping the spits of phlegm down before his own boots. Surprisingly, unlike the brew, not a single drop of filthy fluid from the back of his throat polluted his wild beard's territory.

The source of laughter drew the soldier closer, carefully placing the boots to not step on the phlegm visible from the distance. The silhouette finally approached the man. Barely heard sigh was let out from beneath the hood, and the Noxian first looked at the floor disapprovingly then at the man, catching his gaze and staring back fiercely.

The eyes he met were stained with the color of blood, the dark red tint in the eyes was not an unusual sight as the fellow customers often found it after the ridiculous bets were won. The difference was however in the placement of the color – the sight they would often catch was of the injured whites after the impact, not the irises of a person. The truly red colored eyes were quite an exceptional sight, yet the man seemed to be familiar with the owner of those abnormal features.

His hand reached towards the soldier as the smile on his face widened and their palms clasped in a steady grasp and something looking like a shake before the standing figure pulled back.

"When you're born in the dirt the only way to grow is up." He lowered his voice just so his acquaintance would hear. And so response came out in low husky voice.

"Not all of us do." The customer hastily moved on towards the bar. Long fingers impatiently tapped on the wooden surface, making the owner turn his attention towards the new client. Not a single tint of care was shown on the face of the soldier, the knocking intensified until the mug hit the desk, barely an inch away from the customer's fingers.

It seemed disrespectful towards the owner, yet no comment left his mouth. He held the tankard until the gold coins left the bag of the unfamiliar person – only then he let the drink be snatched away, his hand moving in a similar manner to grab the money, wary of thievish habits of the mindless scums he would often call his friends'.

"Long has it been since you've shown your face around, kid." The bearded man chugged on his drink as his friend walked to the other side of the table, forcing the old man to turn his body.

The response, however, was not met by voice. The soldier slowly nodded and frowned, it forced the man to lean on the table to closely watch the movement of his friend, to not miss a single facial expression.

At first, the hooded customer was watching carefully the liquid inside the mug, turning the tankard left and right to see what's under the thick foam. When the action met no success, the soldier gave up and sighed again before the mug was put to the lips.

A cough followed then a spit on the floor met the other fluids left by previous conversation partner of the bearded man.

"It tastes like horse piss." The disgust painted itself on the face under the hood and the voice sounded higher than before. Few coughs after the tone of the soldier stabilized itself and became low and husky again. The laughter from the other side of the table caught newcomer's attention.

"If horse piss is served in the army those days, I'm glad I'm leftover shitting down the streets." The response seemed to the hooded person more disgusting than the liquid spat on the floor, and so the mug met the lips once more, this time it did not meet the ground.

"Been a long time, Allen." The red eyes shined dangerously in the dim light of the tavern. After a split second, the free hand moved to fix the hood and hide them again. "How's Ma doing?"

The fingers of the man slowly made its way towards the beard only to scratch it a bit, trying his best to look like he was thinking. Patience was a strong side of his conversation partner, as the thinking process took quite a few minutes and several chugs of alcohol before he opened his mouth.

"Kids come and go. Run away and die or live on streets who knows, but Ma's strong woman." He hummed quietly. "She had to bury three more this month. Too sick to stay alive, poor bastards. You didn't know them, but they were good lads, may their blood not go to waste."

Tankard hit the table with enough force to stop Allen's thoughts about dying children. He understood the meaning behind the aggressive motion and coughed a few times before changing his words.

"She's worried about you, kid. You should pay her a visit once in a while." He nodded to himself before taking a sip out of his mug. "She loves you like the daughter she never had."

"No need." Empty tankard was put at the table in such a delicate manner the wooden desk never felt before. The disgust from the taste of brew was forced out of the soldier's face to be replaced by a sad smile. "She sent me to army herself."

The heavy pouch hit the table as the woman stood up and moved the coin-filled sack towards the man. He didn't think twice and put it inside his coat, holding onto pocket as if his life depended on it, taking notice of the eyes that would follow their transition.

"Riven," Allen grabbed the sleeve of her coat and looked up to the soldier, finally able to take a proper look at her face. "As much as you will deny it, she still loves you."

She shrugged his hand off and focused her eyes on the ground. The regret filled her body as she could not find the proper way to reply to his words, although she wanted to stay more and properly act in front of the man she trusted, her time outside was over. With the last tap on his shoulder, she forced a laugh and made her way out of the tavern.


	2. Chapter 2

The cold wind howled like a wild hound, not even rats dared to show their heads in the side alleys as the wintry air forced any soul to find a shelter. The buildings in the lower zones of the Great Noxian Empire had more spaces in between them, letting the harsh winters rage – yet it seemed fit for the scenery. The poorer people had to deal with at least the weather to show their survival instincts or else they would find themselves lying dead on the ground, acting like a new supply of the food for hungry rodents.

The sight of people holding onto their clothes as they hastily made their way to the closest shelters was sending shivers down even the toughest person. It felt like it was not just the cold affecting such action, the fragility of the weaker people could be taking a toll on the mentality of those approaching lower zones. It was no wonder the high born rarely visited those areas.

Despite not needing to repeat her action the soldier pulled the hood more and more over her head. She was well aware her snow-white hair and tired crimson eyes were not visible from beneath the cowl, yet she felt the need to do so – it felt like she was shaming herself by being there with no important duty to fulfill.

The road from the tavern she had just visited was not long, although it felt like an eternity to stay unseen, not recognized. She had to admit, she admired the assassins, rogues who found their place in shadows. Their camouflaging skills and ability to remain unknown was something she once wanted to learn, but no matter how many times she tried, she found herself looking at the Zweihänders. The bigger the sword, the more she wanted to use it as a weapon.

The moment the soldier turned to the familiar area, she stopped holding onto her coat and let out a deep sigh of relief. The gates she crossed looked menacing towards anyone who would carelessly approach, for Riven it looked welcoming, like an entrance to the home she forever wanted. Just the presence of soldiers made her feel much lighter, surprisingly even the air felt warmer – which was almost impossible as the zone she crossed was build higher on the mountain.

The sound of the heavy boots thudded in the calming rhythm of the perfectly synchronized march. From one side it was no different than the atmosphere in the tavern – only the setting made the difference. Riven was very well aware of it if she was still an outcast she would surely join in with jolly actions and drinking till losing the consciousness – but it was not her world. She wanted to fight, she wanted to feel strong and the discipline of the soldiers made her heart race, it was truly her home.

The nightly practice of new recruits was not an unusual sight, everyone who wanted to prove their worth had to undergo the training from the sunrise till their Masters were sure they gave their best for the day – only to be woken up hours later to practice again. Their stamina had to be thoroughly tested, after all, they were the future of Noxus. The crimson eyes of the soldier couldn't look away, she felt the smirk grow on her face, it felt like her own training was just yesterday.

"It is uncommon to see you around here at this hour, Riven." The trance she was in while watching the recruits was broken by the familiar face that she did not want to see at this very moment. Not after she decided to sneak out of the army grounds.

"Yes, General Fury." Her whole body tensed up, the back properly straight showing the respect towards the higher rank. She turned her head to face him and nodded, smirk replaced with a small smile.

He smiled in return. The General of the company she was part of was a wise guy. Strong one as well - Riven admired him from the very moment she joined the army. Since the first day she saw him marching onto the training grounds to look over the recruits, she couldn't look away, her eyes forever followed him. He was harsh in battles, showed no mercy to the enemies – and yet he was amiable towards his friends. He found a way to show kindness without showing weakness. There was no word Riven could use to describe how she respected General Fury.

Her late-night trips were not forbidden in any way as long as they did not interfere with her training or mental state, but she still did feel shame for doing it. Her secret felt like one of the signs of weakness that she did not want to allow to lurk into her heart and so she especially wanted to avoid meeting the man she held high in regard. She did not want to appear feeble in front of him.

"Was your stroll peaceful?" He stood beside her, joining in the watch over the recruits. His eyes now focused on silhouettes of the soldiers. It hadn't gone unnoticed that Riven's posture only tensed up more even after he tried to let her body settle back to the relaxed state by looking away. He knew how she tried her best to show as much respect as possible and admired her resolve. She was truly a poster child for Noxus.

She held her breath for a moment, searching for an excuse and not finding any. She was sure the strolls she was taking were not unnoticed – she lacked the grace of an assassin to be unseen, but she hoped to not be involved in any conversation that could lead to her revealing the purpose of them.

General smiled to himself feeling her gaze focused on his face. He understood how troubled she was by his question and he very much appreciated her attitude – she was an honest child. Although no matter how proud he was of it, he knew that it could lose her. Patiently he waited for her to collect the thoughts and answer.

"The nights get colder every day, it's not pleasant anymore to walk down those roads." She finally forced out a reply, calming herself enough to sound neutral. She pulled down the cowl revealing the white hair.

No matter how many times General saw her snow-kissed locks he always seemed impressed. It was quite a sight on a young person to have complete lack of pigment in the hair – of course, cases of albinism were seen here and there, but the crimson eyed soldier had fairly sun-touched skin and no sign of it affecting her in any way.

"We are all humans, Riven." He said putting the hand on her shoulder. "If you let the cold weather affect your body it won't prove you the strength you seek, only weaken the muscles for time being. You should find a better change of clothing for those."

She chuckled at his words – it seemed like an unexpected action as General's eyebrow rose.

"I clearly remember last year's winter where we were forced to withstand the cold for hours." She smiled at him, finally relaxing when the topic shifted from the direction that could lead to revealing her secret. "Was it only for show then, General?"

His hand left her arm and he himself led out the air out of his lungs whilst holding the laughter. This was the side of Riven he preferred to see. More cheerful one.

"Do not worry, soldier. Once you will feel the colds of Freljord thank Commander Keith for putting you through it." Riven finally looked away from the General and still smiled to herself recalling the practice. Despise her hating it at the moment of it happening – she did see the point of the endurance training. Her warband had to face various kinds of enemies in various territories. Over the past year, she had to travel around, fighting day and night for the glory of Noxus.

"I thanked him already." She did, her respect was always shown in both words and actions. No matter how many times it was not necessary, she still had to properly display her gratitude towards the teachers. It was this attitude that made her be recognized more day by day.

"I'm truly lucky to meet you tonight, Riven." General Fury nodded to himself. Crimson-eyed soldier focused her stare at him once again, this time bit confused. "You are the first in my command, tomorrow is the announcement of the new mission we will be sent to. I wished to inform you about it first to be sure you will take care of your... Business before the mission. I'm glad to see you actually finished."

Riven felt her heart stop for a moment, her breath was held and color faded away from her face. At this very moment, she was sure the second she hard swallowed the saliva that gathered in her mouth, her conversation partner could hear it.

"Worry not." He looked over the frightened soldier. "I do not intend to pry into your personal life more than it is necessary, you should however rest, it has been a long day and soon you will have fewer chances to get a night of proper sleep."

She bit on her lower lip, ashamed of looking weak. Guilty of sneaking out and her superior knowing about it. Her heart ached, her mind trying to find a way to break out of this ceaseless weakness that crawled under her skin and held her back, giving her reason to not feel strong enough. The thought of not being good enough scared her, it made her heart grow colder.

"Thank you." She nodded, her voice low. "I shall take my leave then, I will see you first thing in the morning General."

His eyes followed her as she took her leave and only after she was far enough he let out a heavy sigh. It was very difficult to touch any topic remotely connected with Riven's past. No matter how close he would manage to get to her, she would always shy out and run away from the subject.


End file.
